Obvious
by wanderingsmith
Summary: S/W, S/J - Observer effect
1. Waltz

Summary: S/W, S/J - Observer effect  
Rating: PG13  
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.

AN: _little scene that appeared_

**Chapter one**: Waltz

"For crying out loud, don't they realize how obvious they're being?"

Sam shrugged, watching the couple waltzing to a slow song.  Elegantly tall, their holds on each other comfortable and unhesitatingly familiar.  Moving with casual grace, bodies in sync and in tune; mess dress and thigh-high-slit bright red silk dress flowing together and apart smoothly, enacting their own dance.  "Did Landry ever tell you how she fought to keep him in command of Atlantis' military?"

Jack gave her an intensely curious look, "Wondered how that happened. I was too busy with other stuff to look into it..?"

Sam smirked, half tempted to hold his curiosity hostage for a turn on the dance floor.  But watching the other two gave her a funny twitch in the stomach; maybe it wasn't such a good idea... "Landry got the call while I was in his office.  Got in a real huff and took my 'umm?' as a reason to tell me how they'd planned to put Colonel Caldwell in charge.  And how, when she found out, she stalked out on a roomful of top brass, cheerfully -and truthfully, it turned out- threatening them with the president and the IOA."

By then Jack was grinning, mentally sending the doctor a high five.  "I wonder if he knows.."

Sam frowned reprehensibly at him, "General..."  She knew he was going to ignore her warning when he kept smirking at Sheppard, busy leading his lady through turns, unaware of the danger.

"'The officer and the lady'," Jack intoned in fruity movie announcer tones, waving a hand theatrically, "Nothing could separate them; not the blue of a wormhole horizon, not a sea of brass.."

* * *

"Don't they realize how obvious they're being?"  John knew he sounded petulant, but watching General O'Neill grin down happily at a giggling Colonel Carter made latent wishes of his own rear up in jealousy.

Elizabeth shifted her weight automatically as his grip changed, following his gaze to the old teammates and now good, close friends.  She shrugged as she and John both returned to looking at each other and executed a smooth turn, "Probably not.  After all these years, they probably think it's just the way you're supposed to feel.."


	2. Tango

**Chapter two**

Standing on the edge of the dance floor as new music started, John smiled challengingly and lifted his brows. "How are your knees feeling?"

Elizabeth smiled back quizzically, in no hurry to go back to mingling with the stuffy brass in attendance, "My knees are fine.  The weather here is good for them."

"So?" He waggled is brows teasingly, head nodding lightly toward the band.

Elizabeth listened to the music for a beat and then teased, feeling an unwanted thrill at the thought of dancing *this* dance with this man, "You tango?  I *really* never pegged you for a dancer.."

As she slipped her hand to his nape with a heart-warming lack of hesitation, John grinned, starting them moving slowly in a sultry variation of the dance, pretending away the shiver that snaked through him at her touch.  "I love the *idea*; the feeling, the flow, the rhythm.. and my aunt Harriet made sure I knew at least the basics when I was still a little kid.  Same time as she insisted I learn at least one instrument.  So now whenever I see a dance that looks cool, like, say, watching Al Pacino, I take the classes and learn," he shrugged, avoiding her eyes, "Never really... found the reality remotely as good as I.. expected, I guess.  So I stay off the floor."

Elizabeth didn't need to read his eyes to understand what he meant; knew that the mechanics of dancing were a far cry from the emotions that *could* be in it.  It would be safer to leave the subject as it was... but who tangoed *and* played it safe?  "And now?"

Out of respect for her soft tone, John met her equally soft eyes as he dipped her slowly, gently; knowing she could see his heart as clear as day, not quite caring enough to hide himself at a moment like this.  "Now; I want to tango.  With you."

With her wearing heels, they stood eye to eye, and he was glad again that he seemed able to be honest with her when she straightened and nodded with solemn but equally unhidden affection.

Then the magic of the music took away their usual restraint and their bodies slowly took sway, the rhythm picking up; and picking *them* up.  Grace its full power was allowed to exert as the dancers were no longer a soldier and a calm diplomat; instead a man and a woman who had learned to feel music in their bones and muscles. And knew the *meaning* of this music just as deeply.  Even a stiff uniform was no insurmountable odd with that power at play.

At first they kept the tone light, joking; showing off skill.  Aware of the danger to the status quo that the dance -*this* dance- represented.  But step through step, teasing, seductive look-and-touch after pseudo-intimate touch, the music dragged them entirely to its true purpose.

* * *

"Jack."

"Umm,"  Watching Vala weaselling Daniel into dancing, Jack didn't react to the awed whisper at first.  But when Sam dug her elbow into his side, he looked at her in surprise, "Wha-" he followed her wide eyes and stopped with his mouth open.

They both stepped forward to join the growing silent circle of watchers around the leaders of Atlantis.  He wasn't even tempted to laugh this time, was instead reminded of the only time *he*'d danced like that; on a bet that he 'could *too*' tango better than Arnold.

So drunk that he and Carter had almost ended up making love on his couch while Danny and T' were out on the deck.

Looking sadly at the woman standing besides him, he reminded himself that, unlike back then, he had the ear of the damn president now.  Maybe..  He rested a hand lightly, almost-but-not-quite casually, on her lower back.  Meeting her surprised glance with a silent, hesitant -long overdue- offer.

He took her sudden smile and small step closer as she went back to watching the dance as unlooked-for acceptance; and as he straightened a little more, Jack knew damn well he was grinning like a dope.  He watched the colonel get spun across the floor and figured he owed the man something now.  So he actually tried to work out if he'd *want* to know his lady had spent hard-earned favours to keep him...

* * *

Unaware of the lowly cheering circle that had formed around them, John and Elizabeth were focused completely on each other as they challenged and incited; forgetting who they *were* and had to be in the energy of the dance.

Authority, respect, female, male, teasing and affection; the foundations of their interaction were given free rein and whirled them around the dance floor.  Around and against each other, closer and closer.  Physical intimacy and touches they would never have allowed themselves made normal for a moment out of time as their eyes never let the other go...

"Don't you even *think* of lifting me."

John smirked, not saying a word, eyes locked to hers as they held each other with stiff formally and took fast, challenging, interleaved steps across the floor, not thinking of the space's delimitation; now made up of people.

Teasing and pushing limits was such a part of them that they continued talking back and forth as their bodies moved in rhythm.

John grinned when Elizabeth shifted her hand in his, taking the lead from him.  He obediently followed her tug and let her spin him and then pull him close, arms crossed and wrapped around himself, whispering behind his shoulder, "Taking charge, Dr. Weir?"

She returned the grin unabashedly and they separated, only slowly getting closer, moving to the music and the leanings of their bodies, showing off health and limbs; strutting the most intimate of 'stuff'.  Another tug, *his* lead this time, and he smoothly stretched her out over his knee, bending down to whisper in her ear, "My turn."  He pulled back to grin teasingly as they rose, bodies tightly together, "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?"

"No." Back on her feet, Elizabeth laid her hands on his chest, pushing him backward as they quickstepped, "But the open mouth and glazed eyes when you picked me up were a good hint."  Her smile was simply pleased as she said it though, not trying to put him on the spot.  This time.

A spin, a dip and a change of direction.  Holding her, chest to chest, John slowly walked backward as she let her foot drag, making a clean line with her body. "You aren't supposed to remember that."  On the spot or not, John was blushing that she'd not only noticed his fumble but brought it up.  One of his eyes caught by one of her long legs, split dress baring it in this position.

He pulled her up and into a spin, then she ran her hands down his flanks as she lowered herself along his body, eyes locked to his helplessly darkening ones, her leg stretching out behind her gracefully.  She was too aware of wanting to linger and touch more; trying to ignore the arousal creeping through her.  "Why not?  It was a lovely complement."

He 'raised' her with a hand under her chin, as though bringing her up for a kiss, before sending the fingertips trailing along the underside of her arm as he circled behind her, 'encouraging' her arm up and behind his head.  The heated.. *parted* silk at the top of her hip teased, but the moist skin it left uncovered was what burned his hand as he pressed her tightly to him and guided her through a measure of long mirrored steps.

Hearing a change in the music, he grinned, whispering 'Hang on' before quickly bending to lift her. Her legs automatically lifted to the form, scissored along his side, as he did a slow turn before setting her back down.  Then in the last movements of the music, he spun in front of her, her hand spearing into his hair when he stopped and dropped to one knee, her high-heeled foot coming to rest firmly on his bended knee.

With the final clash, his damp forehead touched her silk-covered midriff, his hands on the outside of her thighs, supporting her slight backward arch, her free arm up in 'victory' pose.

* * *

As they blinked, slowly becoming aware of the clapping and whistling around them, John smiled up at Elizabeth's exhilarated expression.  He whispered breathlessly, mostly to himself, "*That* is what it's supposed to be like."

Coming down slowly from the high with a sigh of pleasure, Elizabeth put her foot back on the floor, fighting the slight embarrassment at just how carried away she'd gotten, a sheen of sweat making her feel a little too flushed for the location.  She very reluctantly took her hand out of his damp hair, beating back a the wistful pulse of sensuality, and offered it to him to help him rise, wiping her forehead with a finger of the other.  Ignoring the people around them for the second it took him to get to his feet.  Whispering back just as wistfully, "Yes.  Yes it is."

Looking around at their grinning audience sheepishly, John lifted her hand and made a show of kissing the back as she gave a shallow curtsy and grin in return, and then escorting her off the dance floor, feeling his damp skin stick to his stiff uniform, adding to the unpleasant feling of being exposed and in enemy sights.

Elizabeth gently put her arm through his, bumping his hunched shoulder with hers as they walked, both moving drastically more stiffly than they had just a few moments ago, "It's alright, John, they might tease a bit, but it was just a dance."

Uncomfortably aware of still being the centre of attention, John gave her a sickly imitation of his usual grin.  Patting her hand on his forearm, he replied tensely, "Yeah, I know.  You ready to blow this party?"  When she nodded, he grabbed her wrap and purse off her chair and kept them moving toward the exit, glad no one intercepted them.  It wasn't until they were out of the ballroom and in a quiet hallway that he finally relaxed and slowed down to a more leisurely stroll.

Elizabeth tried to jolly him out of the mood, sad to have lost that shared pleasure, "I don't think I've seen you *that* uncomfortable in a long time, John Sheppard."

He gave her an abashed glance, warmed by the gentle affection in the words, "Yeah well, there were a lot of stars in that room.  And those generally aren't friendly things." And they can take you from me if I'm too stupid...

She squeezed his forearm reassuringly, "I take care of my people too, John."  I'll always protect you.

He shrugged, looking away, "Yeah.  But you shouldn't have to waste your bargaining chips on me.  We both know you'll need them for more important things sooner or later."

Elizabeth tightened her grip on him as she frowned, wishing she could get her hands on the people that had done the job on his self-worth.  Imagining what Banto stick moves she'd use, she growled her answer, "That's a matter of opinion."  The fact that he looked at her uncertainly for the tone -or was it the words even?- only made her sadder.  He deserved better.  She kept forgetting that, when they were safely home where he *knew* he was needed and recognized.

And then the blasted Milky way would interfere and her friend would lose his quiet confidence.  Oh well.  Another two days and they'd be on their way back.  She resolutely shrugged off the black mood; having her pissed off wouldn't help him.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the VIP quarters she'd been assigned, the tension unwinding and leaving them not quite where they were before the dance.  Leaving a glimpse of what a closer relationship could feel like.  Turning at the door she nodded her head inside with quiet invitation, "You want a drink?"  She wanted to see him relax again.

John nodded, not particularly inclined to see the evening end, now that it was just two of them, "Yeah, sure."


End file.
